Such a crowd as there was buying New Year's presents. The toy-shops were filled with grandpas and grandmas, and aunts and uncles and cousins. As to the shopkeepers, what with telling prices, answering forty questions in a minute, and doing up parcels, they were as crazy as a bachelor tending a crying baby.
Uncle Jolly slipped along over the icy pavements, and finally halted in front of Tim Nonesuch's toy shop. You should have seen his show windows! Beautiful English dolls at five dollars a-piece, dressed like Queen Vic's babies, with such plump little shoulders and arms that one longed to pinch 'em; and tea sets, and dinner sets, cunning enough, for a fairy to keep house with. Then, there were dancing Jacks, and jumping Jennys, and "Topsys," and "Uncle Toms" as black as the chimney back, with wool made of a raveled black stocking. Then, there were little work-boxes with gold thimbles and bodkins, and scissors in crimson velvet cases, and snakes that squirmed so naturally as to make you hop up on the table to get out of the way, and little innocent looking boxes containing a little spry mouse, that jumped into your face as soon as you raised the lid, and music boxes to place under your pillows when you had drank too strong a cup of green tea, and vinaigrettes that you could hold to your nose to keep you from fainting when you saw a dandy. Oh! I can tell you that Mr. Nonesuch understood keeping a toy shop; there were plenty of carriages always in front of it, plenty of taper fingers pulling over his wares, and plenty of husbands and fathers who returned thanks that New Year's didn't come every day!
"Don't stay here, dear Susy, if it makes you cry," said the elder of two little girls; "I thought you said it would make you happy to come out and look at the New Year's presents, though we couldn't have any."
"I did think so," said Susy; "but it makes me think of last New Year's, when you and I lay cuddled together in our little bed, and papa came creeping up in his slippers, thinking we were asleep, and laid our presents on the table, and then kissed us both, and said, 'God bless the little darlings!' Oh! Katy—all the little girls in that shop have their papa's with them. I want my papa," and little Susy laid her head on Katy's shoulder and sobbed as if her heart were breaking.
"Don't, dear Susy," said Katy, wiping away her own tears with her little pinafore; "don't cry—mamma will see how red your eyes are,—poor, sick, tired mamma,—don't cry, Susy."
"Oh, Katy, I can't help it. See that tall man with the black whiskers, (don't he look like papa?) kissing that little girl. Oh! Katy," and Susy's tears flowed afresh.
Uncle Jolly couldn't stand it any longer;—he rushed into the toy shop, bought an armful of play-things helter-skelter, and ran after the two little girls.
"Here, Susy! here, Katy!" said he, "here are some New Year's presents from Uncle Jolly."
"Who is Uncle Jolly?"
"Well, he's uncle to all the poor little children who have no kind papa."